


open heart open container

by nadia5803



Series: liaisons by nadia [8]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 15:41:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30040959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadia5803/pseuds/nadia5803
Summary: me and the boys at the river in donetsk 😋
Series: liaisons by nadia [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631752
Kudos: 2





	open heart open container

**Author's Note:**

> yeah one of my biggest regrets writing ukrainian sleepover is not having funny heartfelt childhood moments with these assholes, so

Near the flowery and green edge of town, two boys still dressed in their loose-fitting folk clothes wandered through the tall bushes, hand in hand. One tall, one rather short, chattering away as insects buzzed above and cars passed by on the broken blacktop.

“She loves me... she loves me not,” as he tittered in broken, lisped Ukrainian, a tiny Olek Mikhailnovych struggled with the petals of the oversized sunflower clutched in his hand.

Carrying a stick and his own bundle of sunflowers, Pietro Semyonovych poked at the upturned dirt and rocks underneath the tall undergrowth. “What did the sunflower do to you?” he asked, his stick trailing behind him as he walked. 

“In the American movies, they do this.”

“Why do they do it?”

“When they’re in love,” Olek replied, eyes fluttering. He grinned at Pietro crookedly and followed the line through the coarse earth.

“Who are you in love with now?” Pietro replied playfully, raising an eyebrow.

Olek bounced behind him with a snicker, sunflower petals falling in tow as he skipped. “Lyubov, she’s pretty. And I know you don’t know her, but she goes to my school, and she’s tall, with blonde hair. And she draws on her notes, too, little drawings.”

Not expecting a reply from Pietro, he pulled the last petal from its place. “She loves me not.” Olek clicked his tongue in disbelief and puffed out his cheeks in a pout. 

Pietro looked over his shoulder increduously. “See? It’s not real. Come on,” he said, holding out his stick. Discarding the stripped flowers, Olek took ahold of the stick and held on tight as Pietro steadily walked down the hillside, making sure to keep his balance and not scuff his bright red clogs. Just over the slope of the hill was a tiny stream, babbling weakly before disappearing down a slight incline. Gravel and browning grass pockmarked the riverbank, and the water was so murky that neither of them would be able to discern their reflections. Nonetheless, it proved a suitable escapade for the two young boys, and they scampered over to the riverbank and took their places. 

In a hurry, Olek was quick to remove his red clogs and roll up his trousers, the intricate lacework disappearing into the folds as he revealed two bruised and scratched-up little legs. With a grin, he stepped into the stream, and stuck his hands into the water.

“What do you think you’ll find in there?” Pietro asked. He had removed his clogs as well, but had only turned up his pants slightly. After all, he had seen how hard his Mama worked on the complex needlework, sitting in her rocking chair with intense focus. He dipped his feet in the water and tried to ignore the bits of dirt and shrapnel that wandered by. 

Olek stuck his tongue out and began to flip over some algae-infested rocks. “Fish. Or frogs. Yes, a frog. Are you scared of frogs, Pietrusha? I know you hate all those slimy things. You’re no fun sometimes.”

“There are no fish or frogs in here,” Pietro said, rocking back and forth. “It is much too dirty. Don’t you see?” Pietro lifted up one of his feet, revealing the dirt and mud pooling just above his ankle. “But we can go to the real reserve, in the country. Mama can bring us and we can catch frogs there.”

Olek picked up his foot from the water and gazed at the dirt. “Yeah, you’re right, aren’t you? Gosh, don’t be so smart, Pietrusha. Here, come in. We might be able to find something else.”

“Like what?” Pulling up his trousers by the waistline and keeping the ends suspended above his feet, Pietro waded a bit further into the shallow water. 

“Treasure,” Olek offered. He crouched into the water, dirtying his clothing, and Pietro yelped.

“Ah, don’t do that! It’ll stain!”

Olek straightened and stared at his sleeves and pants, dripping wet and already polluted from the brown water. “It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t. Your papa will be very mad with you now,” Pietro said, concerned, stepping back onto the riverbank. 

“No he won’t,” Olek replied with a grumble. Then, after another moment of thought, he bent full into the water and ran his hands over the rocks, vegetation, and objects littered on the riverbed. Pietro yelped again and covered his eyes. With an exasperated sigh, Olek bent over further, shutting his eyes as he leaned full into the water. Then, he opened his eyes, scanning the water for anything interesting. Catching the fading sunlight, something wedged between two rocks glinted, and Olek greedily snatched it up before Pietro tugged his arm, forcing him back to the surface.

Now, Pietro’s trousers had been just slightly dirtied. Even so, his face was bright red and betraying an upset look. “That was a stupid idea, Olek Mikhailnovych,” he muttered, smoothing out his pants as he stepped back onto the gravel.

Olek glared at him and pouted again. Then, he held up the shining object and rotated it in the sunlight. “I’ve gotten something.” His eyes were burning, and his finely made clothes were already sticking to him and sopping wet, but he admired the object with pride.

Pietro’s face turned from bright red to a deathly white, and he pulled his hands down his cheeks. “Get rid of that,” he mumbled, his voice low and soft.

“Why?” Olek asked, wading out of the water and holding out the knickknack in his palm. Pietro squinted as the light beamed back into his eyes, and he took the silver object into his hand. It had been warped by the water but it was still unmistakable, and Pietro began to chew his lips. 

“It’s a bullet casing,” he replied, twisting it around in his fingers before handing it back to Olek. “Get rid of it.”

Olek bounced for a moment, opening and closing his hand as he stared at the casing with fascinated eyes. With careful observation, he studied it, rolling it in his palm and staring at the warped metal, the fading serial number. A half-smile creeped across his face. “What if I don’t want to?” he asked, his voice betraying some sinister version of innocence.

Pietro went agape and started to wring his hands. “But you should,” he began nervously, scanning Olek with wary eyes. “Your papa will already be angry with you for dirtying your nice clothes, and he’ll be more mad if he finds you carrying a bullet. Please, listen to me, please,” he said, crossing his legs. “I don’t want you to get harmed.” He picked up the bundle of sunflowers, still untouched and only with the slightest bit of decay at the very tops, and rolled them about in his hands.

With a scoff, Olek bent to put his clogs back on. “See, Pietro Semyonovych, this is why everyone thinks you’re no fun,” he retorted. Then, as if showing off a reward, he held the casing between his fingers and shoved it in Pietro’s face. “I’m keeping it.”

Pietro’s face sank. Olek retracted his hand and spat into the river. The two shifted around awkwardly as they took their places on the riverbank. Olek dropped the casing into the tiny pocket of his trousers, and straightened his legs. Pietro hugged his knees and rocked back and forth, watching as the clouds moved across the greying sky. “That was kind of mean of you, Olek,” he murmured softly, almost inaudible.

“Yeah, well, you act like you know everything. You don’t know everything. In fact, you know nothing, and all those dumb books don’t change anything,” Olek snapped, his face going bright red.“You’re dumb. And stop pretending you know my dad so well, you don’t. You don’t know a thing. Maybe that’s why your dad vanished.”

Going silent, Pietro rolled the sunflowers in his hands again. His hands had gone oily from the seeds and petals, yet it was a preferable alternative from the tears that had started to sting in his eyes. 

They sat in silence for the next few minutes, Olek silently watching the stream as it flowed, Pietro alternating between gazing at the sky or hiding his tear-stained face in his hands. It was only when Olek began to notice the change in Pietro’s breathing that he realized. “Pietrusha...?”

Pietro turned to him, trying to steady his whimpers as he turned to his friend. He wiped away a few of the big tears that had filled his eyes and grumbled something, an offhand remark or hushed apology. 

Olek got to his feet, face instantly spelling regret, and rushed over to Pietro with his arms outstretched. “I’m sorry!” he cried, taking Pietro in his arms. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he said, repeating the same words his papa had taught him. “Please don’t cry.” He buried his face in Pietro’s shoulder and held him close. 

Pietro reluctantly returned the hug, giving Olek a pat on the back before pulling away. “It’s okay,” he said, offering Olek a wobbly smile. “I know you didn’t mean to.” 

“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry,” he repeated. Now, Pietro stared down at his clothes, now crinkled and stained slightly from Olek’s well-intention gesture. He rubbed his face, distraught, but shrugged his shoulders and took his seat. 

“It’s alright, Mama will wash it,” he said to himself.

Olek crossed his legs and sat on the gravel, struggling to find a comfortable position in the rough texture of the shore. “Sorry,” he repeated.

Pietro was silent for a moment. Above their heads, the distant blades of a helicopter whirred. “It’s fine.”

Olek turned to him, pressing his hands into the undergrowth. “My dad has started a garden. You see it, right? He has his own sunflower trellis, says he picked them up in the town. When we have more sunflowers, you can pick as many as you want,” he said, poking one of Pietro’s sunflowers in the center and grinning. “I know they’re your favorite.”

With a teary-eyed and crooked grin, Pietro nodded and set his bundle of sunflowers on the ground. Then, after a moment of consideration, he slid them over to Olek. “Here, finish your game. Maybe Lyubov will love you.”

Olek brightened and got to his feet, already repeating the lines as he ripped off the yellow petals. He started up the hillside, Pietro trailing behind him and following the path of yellow petals.

As the sun sank behind them, and they arrived back at their homes and wished each other goodbye, Olek reached into his pocket, searching for the casing, and found it empty. He reasoned that it must have slipped out on the way back and he hadn’t realized.

Well, he wasn’t quite wrong.

Pietro, swaddled in Olek’s arms, had plucked the casing from its place in his pocket and hid it in his balled hand. As they walked back, chattering and giggling, Pietro had tossed it away, into a sewer beneath the sidewalk, while Olek’s back was turned.

His friend would be alright now.


End file.
